Someone give this penguin some sushi.

Last night (technically this morning) I was sitting at a table at the sushi bistro where H and I work.  My first clue that something wasn't quite right was the scene on the street outside.  Somehow the entire restaurant had been transported to Japan.  Outside was the street in Tokyo where I'd once lived as a child.  That makes sense... right?
Right.

Next to me sat a little boy who looked like the child from The Grudge (American version) sans pasty purplish skin and creepy eyes.  I'm not sure if he would have made odd growling or clicking noises at me, because he never spoke.  A couple of times I glanced over at him.  He would look up at me, smile, then go back to eating his sushi.

Then a penguin flew into the door.  No, I mean she actually hit the glass of the door in a very cartoonish splat and hit hard enough to swing the door open.  Seemingly unfazed by her less than graceful landing, the penguin lady then waddled into the bistro, waved "Hello" to the owners with one flipper (of course they knew her) and came to join us at the table.  The penguin lady bowed to me, giving me a lovely view of the top of her lacey rose-patterned bonnet and introduced herself as Miss Pengu in a soft voice tinged with just a hint of a British accent.  I bowed back and introduced myself, then offered her a cushion to prop herself up a little higher in her chair.  Seemed like the right thing to do.  Nothing unusual here.

That was when I noticed all of the flying turquoise armadillidiidae zipping around the room.  I only noticed them at this point because when any of them flew too near to Miss Pengu, she fired a little red laser beam at it... out of her tail.  Every time she knocked one of the bugs out of the air, she got 10 points.  How do I know she got points?  Because the number 10 floated out of their little rolled up bodies each time the laser connected, of course.
No coins, though.

The last thing I remember thinking as the scene faded to white: "Someone please bring the nice penguin some sushi."

Bicycles, Storm Clouds, and... Vampires?

Had my conversation last night with H not been followed up by yet another really bizarre dream, you probably wouldn't be here reading this now.  But fate is a funny wench (assuming that you believe in her, that is) and so here we are.
Me typing.  You reading.

The setting for this dream was a long stretch of road, like the kind you expect to find in the Midwest US -- flat and straight with corn fields to either side and a big red barn off in the distance.  The sky was an odd shade of blue, and while I don't remember actually looking up in the dream, I know there were storm clouds gathering overhead.  The sun illuminated us from behind so it wasn't truly dark, yet, but you knew it was coming.

I and my two companions rode bicycles down this long expanse of corn field-bisecting road.  We flirted and joked with each other without a care in the world.  Why?  Because we were sexy vampires (though what we were doing outside during the day, I'm not really sure.)  "How do you stay in such good shape?" the handsome blonde vampire to my right asked in a mock interpretation of one of our enamoured victims.  "It's the iron," I told him.
We laughed.

We rode on until we reached the barn.  There the road dead ended into a T intersection.  There was another field on the far side of the perpendicular road there.  Behind the fence around that field stood some of the strangest goats I had ever seen.  Their coats matched the wood of the fence and by 'matched' I mean color and pattern.  One of them was wearing a t-shirt.  He stood up with his little hoofies on the top of the fence so we could read said shirt.  It was printed with a written account of some past hero (or antihero perhaps) who had discovered his lady had been stolen away while he was abroad.  The hero (antihero) returned home, slew the perpetrator and took back his lady.  Hey look!  It has a happy ending.  Thanks, Mister Goat.

Fortunately the phone rang before we had a chance to eat the goats.